


Fading Daylight

by kaientai



Series: Captains & Soulmates [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Art Museums, F/M, Reincarnation, Seraphim, They don't play volleyball in this lmao, lore heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23196424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaientai/pseuds/kaientai
Summary: In his eyes, you saw the warmth of the golden sun—like a memory taken from you, but never really forgot.
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Reader
Series: Captains & Soulmates [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1417786
Comments: 13
Kudos: 187





	1. Chapter 1

"And here we have the Crimson Dream, as depicted on a white canvas with red paint by none other than Sakurauchi Hide-san." 

Awed whispers resonated in your little tour group as your guide spared you a few minutes to observe the beautiful yet macabre painting among many others hung on the walls of the museum. Photographs and the like were strictly prohibited, and you've been giving your best friend, Kinuye, the cold shoulder when she opted not to tell you. 

"What am I supposed to do with this, then?" you muttered, gesturing vaguely at the disposable camera hung around your neck. "You could've stopped me when I got it at the gift shop." 

Kinuye giggled, tucking a tuft of loose, brown hair behind her ear. "Well, for one, you looked so excited to document our first date in forever. What kind of friend would I be to take that away from you?"

You scoffed. "A practical one."

"Hm. While you _do_ have a point, you could always use that for other things, right?" She grinned, and dear god, you still rued the day the universe had decided that _she_ would be the pretty friend. "Tetsurou will come pick us up a little later. Is there anywhere you'd like to go to next?" 

Frowning, you asked, "This Tetsurou guy—he's your boyfriend, right?" 

She nodded gingerly. "Yup. Total sweetheart, I tell you. You'll love him!"

You hummed in contemplation, wondering if you really will love the guy, as Kinuye had insisted. She'd started sending you photos of herself doing weird poses with her old Organic Chemistry professor only a few months ago. While he didn't look like someone that would deliberately break your best friend's heart, there was something off-putting about him that you couldn't quite put your finger on.

It's not because he was older, really. Dating older people was normal in college. It was more because you convinced yourself that you knew him from somewhere, but couldn't recall how. 

"Now, moving on to the next work of art..."

The two of you shuffled along as the tour guide prattled on about the origins behind the next piece over. As a painting major, your heart practically melted when Kinuye texted you the previous week, saying that she'd scored the two of you tickets for the new art museum that opened a few blocks from your university. It's been the talk of your department for weeks, and the tickets had sold out on the first day of the pre-sale. You weren't lucky enough to get your hands on them, yourself, but life had apparently decided that you shall also be bestowed with your pretty friend's blessings. 

"Hey, that one reminds me of the painting you have in your living room," Kinuye whispered, pointing somewhere behind you. With one eyebrow raised, you craned your head to sneak a glance at what she was pertaining to—only to be met with the sight of a massive tapestry framed at the other side of the hall.

As most tapestries were, the fabric that depicted a vast, orange sky with spires of land jutting from the clouds was being displayed behind a stretch of conservation glass. A few visitors were standing in front of it, murmuring among themselves while sharing contemplative stares. There was even a golden plaque placed underneath, but you were too far away to read the inscription. 

But Kinuye was right. It _did_ look eerily similar to the twilight painting you once did for your scenery final.

"I've been meaning to ask, but did you get your reference off the Internet or did you see it with your own eyes?" your best friend wondered, genuine curiosity brimming in her gaze. "It practically looked like a screenshot, you know. One of my favorites for sure."

"Is that your way of telling me that you didn't like the portrait I gave you for your birthday?" You pouted. 

Kinuye gasped, appalled at your accusation. "I _adore_ every single piece you make, and you know it! It's just that...there's something about that painting in particular, you know? I remember you holing yourself up in your apartment for _days_ just so you could finish it before finals week ended. Now, the fan art for your original is being displayed at a museum—"

"That tapestry is _not_ fan art, Kinuye," you said in-between chuckles as your gaze wandered back to the twilight sky just a few feet away. "I guess we just happened to witness the same thing."

One side of her mouth quirked upward. "Eh? So you _did_ see it with your own eyes. Where is it? Were you on a hiking trip? Is it back in Hokkaido? You're going to take me there, right?"

You sighed, running a hand through your hair with playful exasperation. "You're so demanding."

"If some person made the effort to make a damn tapestry of the same scenery you painted for a final requirement, then it just means that it's _that_ amazing, right?" Kinuye folded her arms across her chest, declaring, "You _will_ take me there."

She was practically the first friend you've made when you moved to Tokyo, so of course you'd want to take Kinuye to places you knew she would like. But how were you supposed to bring her somewhere you've only seen in the plane of your dreams?

"I'll think about it," you told her, not really meaning the words.

"And that concludes our guided itinerary," the guide up front said, almost sounding relieved. "You may now take a look at the rest of the artworks displayed in this wing on your own accord. But do refrain from going beyond as the other wings are still under construction. Thank you for visiting the Akaashi Museum for Fine Arts, and we do hope you'll support the institution as time flows on." 

_As time flows on_. Those are some strange parting words. 

Once your group dissolved into pairs and individuals, Kinuye seized your wrist so she could drag you off to the tapestry that she'd suddenly went crazy about. There were more people viewing the frame than earlier, but the two of you managed to get a decent spot, nonetheless. There, you could read the words etched onto the plaque much more clearly.

**The Dawn of Our Ruin  
**by Akaashi Keiji, 2014

"Huh. Says here that the guy who made this finished it on his third year of high school. So _you're_ the one who did the fan art after all, huh (Name)-chan," teased Kinuye as she carefully went over the rest of the details. "Oh, and he's _also_ the son of the museum's director! Really runs in the family, huh?"

Her words, however, were a bit muted in your ears, given that your attention was ensnared by the artist's interpretation of his own work. 

_"When heavenly fire swathes the clouds with reds and oranges, the rage of the gods cannot be fathomed by mortal minds. Those who oppose their justice will be struck down to the earth, where they will perish with their dying eyes transfixed on the fading daylight."_

You saw a beautiful sky at the dregs of twilight. Akaashi Keiji saw clouds on fire.

"You ladies seem pretty into that piece, huh?"

Startled, you whip your head back to face whoever addressed you and Kinuye so abruptly. There, a man who seemed no older than the two of you stood with his pockets shoved into his sleek black overcoat. He rose tall above the both of you, his grin blindingly bright. But the most peculiar thing about him, aside from his streaked, bouffant hair, was definitely the molten gold of his eyes—so mesmerizing that you'd almost forgotten he'd asked you a question.

"Y-Yes," you stuttered. "I—"

"My friend here painted something that looks exactly the same as this one!" Kinuye interrupted, patting your shoulder proudly. "She won't tell me where it is, but she did promise to take me there someday."

You shot her an incredulous look. "I did _not_ make any promises, Kinuye." 

"I'm Yoshitaka Kiyune, and that's (Surname) (Name)," she introduced. Your friend merely smiled at you like a Cheshire cat, before balking off at the stranger about your supposed skill with the canvas and brush. You could only shrink to the side when said stranger responded with the same extroverted eagerness that Kinuye practically exuded on the daily.

"Whoa! You got the highest mark for your version of this? I haven't seen it, but I already know you deserve it," he said, eyes glittering with awe. The wonder in his voice wasn't staged. You've been on the receiving end of half-meant compliments all your life, and you could tell that his words were nothing but genuine. 

Kinuye perked up from beside you. "Oh, if you don't mind, can we ask for your name...?" 

The golden-eyed man's smile softened. "Koutarou. Bokuto Koutarou. I'm one of the curators for the museum." 

"You're a _curator_?" you repeated, disbelief lining your features.

Bokuto hollered out loud, earning a few looks from the nearby visitors. "Ah, I get that a lot. I don't look the part, but I know good pieces when I see them. I'm the one who's in charge of this wing after all." 

You blinked at him, at a loss for words. "So, you know the person who made this, then?" 

"Of course!" He nodded vigorously. "The Akaashis are a family friend of mine, and the dude who put this gigantic thing together is practically my best friend. Like hell I'll leave out his best work to gather dust in their basement."

"I see..." Your voice trailed off when your gaze latched back onto the tapestry. The details were breathtaking, each thread carefully placed where they could bring the depicted image to life. This close, you could see that, indeed, it wasn't the sky that's orange. The puffy white clouds were covered in a thin blanket of fire, as if the rage of the gods Akaashi had spoken of hasn't boiled over yet. 

"You know, I could sign your pieces up to be displayed on here, too." 

Your body reacted before your mind could even process the words. You felt your hands grow cold within a second, the chill spreading to the rest of your skin. Did you hear him right? Did the curator for the museum you thought you'd never be able to visit within the month just offer to display your art in the newly opened wing?

"You can refuse if you don't want to though," Bokuto supplied, a sheepish look twisting his face. "It's just that I'm friends with Professor Konoha, and he's been telling me about a certain student that had her own rendition of Akaashi's Dawn, and that her pieces were, quote, out of this world."

Feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up on your face, you turned your head a little to the side. "K-Konoha-sensei _is_ a little superfluous with his compliments sometimes..." 

He shook his head. "Konoha is the most honest guy I know! When he's playing favorites, that just means your stuff is worth something." Bokuto then reached into his coat before handing you a small, rectangular card. He grinned once more, and you could feel your blush worsen by the second. 

"If you're interested, just give me a call, and we can talk about it over lunch! Or coffee. Or—I dunno. Whatever you'd like." The look in his eyes was so hopeful, you thought it would be a crime to turn him down. 

You gulped, studying his business card for a few seconds before keeping it inside your bag. "T-Thank you, Bokuto-san—"

"Oh, don't be so formal with me." He pouted. "Back then you told me—ah, I mean... I'd prefer it if my future clients didn't address me so stiffly."

"Alright...Bokuto." You spoke his name carefully, feeling how the syllables fit in your tongue. "I'll call you once I've made up my mind." 

The curator clapped his hands together, like a child promised with a toy. He just wouldn't stop smiling, and you felt as though he won't do so any time soon. Beside you, you could feel Kinuye giving you one of her Looks, and you weren't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"Alright, thanks a lot, (Name)—uh, (Surname). You, too, Yoshitaka. It was nice meeting the two of you, but I'll be going now," he sighed wistfully, like he didn't want to leave. "I have a meeting with the directors in a few minutes, and Keiji might just yell at me for being late. Again."

You let out a soft laugh. "It's okay, Bokuto. Thank you again for the opportunity."

With a single nod of the head, Bokuto strode off to the restricted area of the museum, possibly where the offices were located. You were about to ask Kinuye what time her boyfriend would come pick the two of you up, but the Look she was sending your way only intensified once Bokuto was out of sight.

"He's into you," she spoke flatly. "He is _so_ into you."

Your eyes widened and you could feel yourself flush at her words. "W-What do you mean?"

"(Name), don't act dense. You've had boyfriends in the past. I'm sure you can tell if a guy likes you or not." 

"He was just being nice!" you reasoned. "He's friends with Konoha-sensei, so he must've seen some of my work. It's purely professional—"

"With the way he was looking at you like you're his next mistake?" Kinuye chuckled, patting your shoulder affectionately. "As if."

Your bottom lip quivered with the itch to have the last word. "H-He's older!"

"Tetsurou is a good six years older than me, and we're doing mighty fine," she argued with a smirk. "Come on, just admit that the pretty curator is into you and we can have lunch." 

"B-But—"

Your protest was interrupted by the sound of Kinuye's ringtone, and she immediately fumbled around her bag for her phone. Her sea green eyes lit up when she checked the sender’s name. "Just in time. Tetsurou's already waiting for us out front." Stuffing her phone back, she flashed you a faux-angelic smile. "(Name)-chan, you can continue wallowing in your denial later, but I would really prefer if you just owned up to it."

"Whatever," you sighed in defeat. "Let's go. I'm starved." 

As the two of you made your way down the marble steps that led outside, you felt the sun practically glaring down on the both of you. The hustle and bustle of the city did nothing to spare you from the irritation either. Summer in Tokyo was excruciating in its own right, and you looked up to the sky just to give the big ball of fire a glare of your own. 

However, in the distance, just a few buildings away, you spotted a bird—no, a _creature_ in flight. It was too far away for you to decipher what it really was, but you could somehow make out the shape of massive wings jutting out from its back. Too big to be a bird, too alive to be a plane.

Remembering that you had a camera at your disposal, you raised it to your face so that one eye was posed on the viewfinder. It was one of those newer models that had a decent zoom in feature, but the identity of the figure in the sky remained unknown when it promptly disappeared up into the heavens, high enough where no human could hope to reach. 

"(Name)-chan, are you taking a picture of something?" 

You let the camera fall, the strap straining against the back of your neck. Kinuye was looking at you expectantly from where she's waiting beside an unfamiliar car.

Exhaling a deep breath, you shook your head. "No. Sorry," you told her, before jogging down the rest of the steps. 


	2. Chapter 2

"(Name)? (Name), wake up!"

You lurched forward with a gasp, eyes wrenching open as your brother's face came into view. Tetsurou was gazing at you with worried eyes, his mouth pressed into a thin line. You could feel your heart racing in your chest as you grasped at the threads of a dream that's slowly fading away the moment you regained consciousness. The rage of the gods. Heavenly fire. The earth down below coming into view closer, closer, _closer_ —

"What did you see?" Tetsurou asked, seating himself beside you on your bed, folding his massive, crimson wings behind his back. 

His query was met with silence, as you were too busy affixing your gaze on your hands. They trembled lightly in your lap even if you consciously willed them to stay still. Your line of sight wandered off to the open windows of your quarters, where the moon still hung in the night sky. Then, your eyes caught sight of your other brothers and sisters who laid still in their own beds, undisturbed in their slumber. 

"I'm not certain," you murmured, feeling your own, blood red wings contracting with unease. "All I know is that the gods were enraged by something, but I do not quite know what."

The gift of clairvoyance was rare even among the angels in the high heavens, and those who had it always led tragic lives. Inexplicable visions of death and destruction plagued their minds until they slowly, slowly spiralled into madness. That dream was only one of the milder premonitions—the kind that didn't necessarily invoke insanity, but were enough to unsettle you.

You still rued the day that a Dominion soldier such as yourself was given such a cross to bear. 

"You were thrashing in your sleep," said Tetsurou, voice as quiet as an evening breeze. "I'm surprised you didn't wake anyone else up."

"I managed to rouse _you_ , though," you pointed out, a half-hearted laugh rumbling in your chest. 

The ruby-winged soldier returned your words with an airy laugh of his own, rising to his feet to stretch his limbs. You watched with rapt attention, the way each vermillion feather seemingly glittered in the moonlight. 

"The bond that the bastard sons and daughters of Nekomata share is a formidable one, yes," he said brusquely. "But _our_ blood, in particular, runs even deeper since we share the same mother. Or have you forgotten that, dear sister of mine?"

Shaking your head, you watched Tetsurou pad back to his own bed, momentarily catching sight of your own wings in a mirror placed in one corner. "How could I possibly forget when our wings are a matching pair?"

He was silent for a good while, and you were convinced he'd already fallen back asleep. But when Tetsurou chuckled once more, all he told you was, "I guess you won't, then."

* * *

" _And_ he finished his Master's at Tokyo U, too!"

Kinuye's voice managed to snap you out of your stupor, and that's when you realized that you've been staring at her boyfriend, Kuroo, far longer than what was appropriate. You blinked, humming in understanding to feign attentiveness. Your best friend continued her narration of Kuroo's achievements as you poked at the carbonara on your plate. Her boyfriend's cheeks were dusted crimson, telling Kinuye that she'd been giving him too much credit. 

There, your gaze latched onto him once more. If the sight of Kuroo in a picture already gave you an off-putting feeling, the sensation was unparalleled when you were sitting right across from him and Kinuye at a nearby Italian restaurant. Your instincts told you that you shouldn't trust him—sweet, smart, and gentlemanly Kuroo Tetsurou. But you didn't get the inkling that he had malicious intents for Kinuye. No. It's more like you were anticipating that he was out to get _you_.

"(Surname), was it?" he asked, brows knitted in concern. "You're looking a little pale there. Is that pasta not any good?"

You shook your head, the uneasy feeling at the pit of your stomach only festering. "No, it's pretty delicious. I just don't have the appetite for it, I guess..."

"Eh?" Kinuye pouted. "You've been out of it since the car ride. Did anything happen, (Name)-chan?"

"Ah, this is nothing," you lied, scratching the back of your neck. "It's probably the heat. We all know that Tokyo summers can be a bit much." 

Your best friend affixed you with an observant look, unconvinced with your reasons. Thankfully, though, she decidedly let you off the hook when she picked back up on her rambling. 

"Oh, Tetsurou, did you know that (Name)-chan here got offered for her art to be put up at the Akaashi Musuem!" The excitement in Kinuye's tone was so evident, that you could feel yourself shying away from the impressed gaze that Kuroo shot your way. You weakly protested against her enthusiasm, saying it was only because the curator, Bokuto, was acquainted with one of your professors. 

"Bokuto, huh?" Kuroo's mouth twitched into a smile. "Small world. He's one of my closest friends from college, actually. Him and I go _way_ back—"

The sound of plates and silverware rattling on the table startled the couple in front of you when you abruptly got back onto your feet. For some reason, that did it. Not only was Kuroo making your instincts come alive with blatant dread, but he’s somehow connected to the man that curated an artwork similar to one of your own. Your heart was beating off the charts, and the concern on Kinuye's face was turning into an alarmed look. 

"(Name)-chan, what—"

"I'm...going to get some fresh air," you told them, excusing yourself before Kinuye could even stop you. 

Contrary to your observations, Tokyo summers were more than 'a bit much'. The heat of the afternoon was the kind that toasted the soles of your sneakers the moment you set foot on the sidewalk. Passers-by carried dark umbrellas with them for some temporary solace from the sun, but there was nothing that could be done with the heat that clung their skin. You opted to stay beneath the shade provided by the restaurant's canopy, given that this was probably the freshest air you could get around these parts.

"(Name)?" 

You whipped your head towards the voice that called out your name. There, in front of the next store over, a foreign-looking woman with silvery hair and sea-green eyes was looking at you like she saw a ghost. You weren't sure if it was relief or fear or maybe a mix of both dancing in her eyes. But before you could even ask who she was, a man that shared the exact same features and was a head taller than her tugged at her wrist.

"Nee-san," he said, his voice firm. The taller guy seemed to be aware of your presence, but was avoiding your gaze entirely. "We have to go." 

"But..." 

You couldn't listen in on the rest of their conversation, given that they were already crossing the road. But the silver-haired woman still glanced over her shoulder, shooting you an apologetic look before disappearing into the throng of commuters. Huh. That was odd. 

"Hey."

You startled at the feeling of someone tapping your shoulder, only to realize that it was Kuroo. He wore a kind smile, as he told you, "Kinuye asked me to come get you for dessert. Do you want some gelato?"

Being alone in such proximity made you sick to your stomach. Alarm bells practically rang in your ears as Kuroo held out his hand expectantly. Why did such a friendly looking face evoke such a strong reaction from you? Not even potential thieves you encountered on your daily commute made you feel like this. Yet with Kuroo, you wanted nothing more than to run—far enough that he couldn't even look at you.

And that's exactly what you did.

Kuroo's shouts intermingled with the incorrigible chatter of pedestrians along with blaring car horns. You knew that ditching Kinuye would most definitely get on your best friend's nerves, but the compulsion to get away was too strong to ignore. As you darted past familiar alleyways and rounded corner avenues, you managed to breathe out a sigh in relief when you reached the front of your apartment complex. Thank God they chose a nearby restaurant to eat lunch at.

As you breathlessly climbed the concrete stairs, something caught your eye. At the top step lied a soft, ivory feather, sitting idly on a dusty surface. Squinting, you plucked it off the ground to inspect it more closely.

"Excuse me," grunted a dyed-blond man as he brushed past you to get to the entrance. You recognized him as one of the other tenants residing on your floor, but he didn't even bat as much as an eyelash in your direction when he swiped his keycard to unlock the double doors of your building.

When the doors closed behind him with a click, you opted to spend a few more minutes in the sweltering heat, studying the large feather pinched in between your fingers. It didn't seem like it belonged to a bird, but if not, where'd it even come from?

Pocketing the feather in your jeans, you fished your own keycard from your wallet to grant yourself entrance. It was barely three in the afternoon, and you could already feel the day's events taking its toll on you. Maybe, just _maybe_ , if you got a sufficient power nap, you could forget about the dread that surged through you at the sight of Kuroo. And you could ring up Kinuye for a sincere apology. 

* * *

"(Name)!"

While you were in the middle of polishing one of your twin blades, you heard Alisa's gentle voice calling out from outside the armory. You glanced behind your shoulder, one brow quirked in curiosity.

Alisa flew inside the room and landed soundlessly on her feet, grinning from ear-to-ear as she ruffled her own silver feathers. "A little bird told me that Nekomata assigned you to be the prince's guard for his earthly voyages." 

"That so?" you humored her, sheathing both blades on the scabbards strapped to your waist. "I don't really understand why they need someone to keep an eye on Prince Koutarou when he has his own guard, but it _has_ been quite boring here in the citadel."

"I'm jealous," Alisa sulked, folding her arms across her chest with a pout. "I'll be the only girl here again!"

"What about Akane?" 

"She and Taketora went back to the Blessed Isles. Their mother's expecting a new brood of Dominion soldiers, as far as I've heard." The silver-haired soldier sighed, taking a seat on one of the empty stools scattered about. "Bah. It's not like I'm unused to spending hours alone because Nekomata won't let me handle weapons of any sort." 

You chuckled, giving her a knowing look. "You're aware that he's only doing that because—"

"I'm the potential bride for one of the seraphim royalty; _yes_ , I am aware," she drawled, as if exasperated with the fact. You could only shake your head in amusement as you patted her shoulder. 

"I'll be back before you know it, Alisa," you promised, smiling kindly. 

Your sister simpered. "Sometimes, I have a hard time believing that I'm the eldest out of all of us." 

"Excuse me."

You and Alisa whipped your heads back to the entrance, where Kenma, one of your brothers stood idly by the doorway—stoic mask readily in place.

"What is it, Kenma?" you wondered. 

Kenma furled his stark white wings behind him, affixing you with a golden-eyed stare before saying, "The owl prince is at the Great Hall, and he wishes to meet his escort in advance."

"Owl prince...? _Oh_ , you mean Prince Koutarou?" 

"Who else?" He rolled his eyes. 

"So snappy this early in the day, aren’t you?" Chuckling, you spared Alisa one last look. "Are you coming with?" 

Your sister shook her head, flashing you a warm smile. "I'm going to meet Lev here anyway. Now, go! Shoo!" 

Without another word, you followed Kenma out into the hallway.

* * *

When you woke up again, the sun was already bleeding into the horizon and your mouth felt sandpaper dry. 

As you emptied one of your pitchers of water, you pulled all of your attention onto the dream you had—one you'd immortalized and framed on a canvas hung in your living room. It was the same over and over. Orange sky, land spires that penetrated the clouds, falling, falling, falling...

Your phone rang from where you'd placed it on the counter, startling you enough to spill some of your water. Cussing at your carelessness, you stepped over the mess you made to answer whoever was calling.

"Hello?"

"What on Earth has gotten into you?!" Kinuye's shrill tone grated at your ear. "Tetsurou told me you just scampered off to God knows where! You even left your stuff in his car."

Oh, fuck. Right. You were so dead-set with getting away from Kuroo that you completely overlooked the fact that your bag was sitting at the backseat of his SUV. Carding a hand through your messy hair, you padded back to the living room, pacing around as Kinuye continued shooting a barrage of questions your way. 

"We were so worried about you! Hey, are you even listening to me, (Name)?" 

You were about to tell her that, yes, you were. It's just that she hadn't exactly given you any leeway to voice out your responses. But at the same time, your eyes landed on the painting that got you a perfect grade for your scenery art final. You didn't really know what was going on in your head during that one hellish finals week, but you were pleased for having rendered the scene that's been plaguing your dreams for years into reality. 

And despite Kinuye's seething, the only words you managed to get out were:

"Can you send me Bokuto-san's number?" 

* * *

"There she is, the Crimson Prophetess of the Dominion!"

You wrinkled your nose at the title, descending the massive staircase that led to the Great Hall. There, Prince Koutarou, with his dual-toned wings unfurled, grinned at you like he'd just won a war. To his right, stood Keiji, one of the trusted seraphim guards of the royal family. To his left was your brother, Kuroo, who was shaking his head at the prince's uncourteous greeting. 

"Your Highness," you and Kenma greeted in unison, both of you going down on one knee.

The prince's expression soured. "Please, it'd mean the world if you weren't so cordial. Especially you... (Name), was it? Tetsurou's twin sister?" 

You looked up at him, confused. "Y-Yes."

Koutarou nodded, gesturing for you and Kenma to get back on your feet. Once you've done as told, the prince's gaze darted between you and Tetsurou, particularly, on both of your wings. "Huh. Stellarian seraphim really are somethin' else. Your wings look like they're drenched in blood!"

"Your Majesty, that is not an appropriate thing to say to Stellar Isle natives," sighed Keiji. 

"We don't mind, really," you reassured. "I mean, I'd think the same thing if I didn't have red wings." 

Tetsurou nodded in agreement. "We get that a lot, especially from our siblings from the Northern Isles. You know, the ones with silver hair."

Koutarou snapped his fingers in realization. "Oh, the albinos!"

" _Your Majesty_ ,” Keiji pleaded.

"I see that you've met your escort already, Prince Koutarou." 

The mere sound of his voice had you, Tetsurou, and Kenma straightening your spines as you stood still. Nekomata slowly went down the way you came, smiling earnestly at the rowdy company he's invited to the citadel. Once he's reached the bottom level, he nodded his head once—a signal for his children to be at ease. 

Clearing your throat, you said, "Father, if I may ask—"

"You may," Nekomata replied.

"—why was I chosen for such a duty? I believe that Lord Keiji is much more deserving. He's also been around the prince far longer than I have." 

Keiji breathed out a soft laugh. "That, I'd like to know, as well. As far as I am aware, I'm not particularly occupied for the next few days."

Your father hummed in understanding, turning to the prince. "Now, will you honor us with an answer, Your Highness?" 

Koutarou hollered out loud, as if it was the funniest joke ever told to him. The sound echoed throughout the high ceilings, and there was something about the tone of his laughter that made your heart race and chest prickle with an unfamiliar heat.

"It's simple, really. I wish to be accompanied by a Stellarian is all. Tetsurou here refused to take the job, you see," he said, slinging a muscled arm around your shoulders. The sudden contact made you flinch away instinctively, and the prince shot you a confused stare. 

Having been raised to be a soldier since you were a child, affection of any sort between you and your siblings was limited. You were taught to have hearts of stone and nerves of steel. Not even Tetsurou, your own blood and flesh, would touch you so freely. You half-expected Nekomata to snap at the prince for his carefree behavior, but instead, your father breathed out his own bout of chuckles.

"I see," said Nekomata, stroking his chin in contemplation. "I do hope my daughter would be of ample service. Kenma. Tetsurou. Accompany me outside, will you?" 

As Nekomata spread his great, ivory wings, your brothers followed suit. Tetsurou, however, spared you a mindful glance behind his shoulder—a look he’d always send your way when he’s hesitant to leave you alone—before taking flight. When the three of them have departed, you're struck with the realization that you were alone with the prince and his guard.

"I can't wait to descend the heavens with you!" Koutarou lunged forward so that your faces were a hair's breadth apart. You could feel your gaze freezing up from surprise, as your mouth hung agape. His eyes were like molten sunlight—almost too bright for you to look at directly. 

But not even your clairvoyant prowess could warn you of the tragedy those captivating, golden eyes would bring to your life.


	3. Chapter 3

"I found it!"

You perked up at the triumphant hum that followed the prince's words. The shortness of breath didn't help either, but you managed to make out what's gotten Prince Koutarou so excited all of a sudden. Wading through the thick vegetation that sprouted from the ravine, you squinted as the sunlight glared down on you once you emerged into a clearing. The musty scent of earth and nature intermingled in your nose, and you breathed the air in abundance as you let the sun's rays cascade across your skin. You've only been to the earthly plane a handful of times, but this was quite the momentous experience.

Up ahead, the prince of the high heavens was sitting on top of a peculiar rock formation with his back turned to you. He didn't feel the same, urgent need to glamour his wings, so they were on full display—ivory and ebony feathers stark against the vibrant shades of green all around you. As you drew closer to him, you could see that he was clutching something in his hands.

"My father once told me about the time he'd sparred against Lord Nekomata sometime ago," he told you, studying the gold-hilted dagger resting on his palms. "Turns out, _your_ old man learned a thing or two from the Northern Isle natives. He used some multi-dimensional magic to disarm my father and transported the dagger he used somewhere here on Earth." Prince Koutarou let slip a lighthearted chuckle, eyes just as golden as his father's weapon glittering with delight. "That's the captain of the Dominion soldiers for you."

"He _does_ have a...penchant for resorting to underhanded tactics, Your Highness," you sighed, recalling every time your father pulled the same trick on you in sparring sessions. He never really told you where the swords and daggers you've thrown his way ended up once he made use of the magic that Alisa and Lev have skilfully mastered. 

The prince threw his head back, balking off with his loud, raucous laughter. For a moment, the clouds parted just enough for the sunlight to spill on his magnificent form as well. You could feel your lips parting with a muted gasp at the sight of his wings shimmering in the daylight. 

"You know, there's really another reason why I chose you to be my guard instead of Keiji and Tetsurou."

You blinked out the stupor in your eyes, flushing at having caught yourself ogling the prince. Coughing awkwardly, you watched him seat himself comfortably on the slab of stone where he'd retrieved his father's dagger, twirling it mindlessly in his fingers. The prince's honeyed gaze was trained on you, and if the genuine grin that sat on his lips was anything to go by, you'd say he was just as pleased with your company as much as you were with his.

Dominion soldiers such as yourself were nothing but tools to be used should the heavens wage war against unforeseen forces. They need not breed and multiply, like other seraphim, for they were nothing but bastards with tainted blood. Though you had both the respected Stellarian and Regalian heritage from your mother and father respectively, being half of either knocked your life's value down a couple of notches. 

You could never really afford the indulgence of letting yourself think that the prince, of all people, would have an eye for a bastard like you.

"In the duels hosted by my family a few weeks back," Prince Koutarou began, lightly patting the spot next to him for you to sit on, "you were the Stellar Isle's chosen champion, right?"

Heeding his request, you promptly scooted next to him, feeling the rough surface of the stone scraping against your legs. The glamour you'd placed on your wings beforehand might have concealed it to the naked eye, but you still felt the weight of the feathers on your back. Once you were settled, you answered the prince's query with, "All because Tetsurou refused to step up as our representative."

"You speak like you're the second option," he observed, brows quirking with curiosity. "You're twins. Why do you sound like you're inferior?"

You managed a soft breath of laughter, remembering the way he spoke about the seraphim races so lightly back at the citadel that Keiji had scolded him multiple times for it. Most were easily offended by his blunt way with words, but you thought that his blatant honesty was a fitting trait. No one would be more deserving to govern the seraphim in the future than someone as genuine as the prince himself. 

"He's always been more skilled than I could ever hope to be, Prince Koutarou," you sighed, tracing the leather straps of your sandals. "But Tetsurou never wanted to be in the center of attention, always shoving windows of recognition onto my plate. Nonetheless, Father still thinks highly of him."

" _I_ think highly of you." 

You turned your head to face him, eyes widening by a fraction at his words. But the absence of any timidness in his face was warranted, you supposed. Prince Koutarou, as dreadfully honest as he was, would never blurt half-hearted opinions on any matter. For a moment, you felt a little more human than seraph with the way your heart sped up yet again, beating against your chest like it wanted to be set free. You wondered—seriously _wondered_ —how it was so easy for him to just say things like that out of the blue. 

"Hey, who goes there?! This is restricted property!"

The sound of another voice calling out from the jungle roused you into alertness, one hand immediately going to the shortsword strapped to your thigh. Before you could assume any fighting stance, however, Prince Koutarou placed his large, warm hand on your wrist; eyes telling you not to attack. 

"We have no business skewering humans when _we're_ the ones enroaching on their land," he laughed, hauling himself back to his feet before spreading his massive wings to their full span. "Shall we go home?" 

That was the moment that did you in, you thought. The way the light of the sun splintered behind his wings, enshrouding the prince with a halo of brightness as he held out his hand for you to take—it was an image that would forever be burned in the back of your mind. 

You grinned up at him, your hand feeling so much smaller in his. "As you wish, Your Highness."

* * *

You arrived at the yakiniku restaurant five minutes before the time you'd agreed on, patiently waiting for your companion by the entrance. 

It was located in one of the quieter corners of Tokyo, tucked away in a small street with locals who appreciated the absence of the night life noise just as much as you did. As a shut-in, you often preferred holing yourself up in your apartment, working on some of your pieces rather than going bar hopping once Friday night rolled around like Kinuye often did. 

Of course, you had nothing against those who liked basking in the exhilaration brought about by evening endeavors. It's just that—

"Hey, (Surname)!" 

You found it odd, how you recognized Bokuto's voice even though you only just met him once. Turning to the direction from where he called out, you saw the curator dressed more casually than he'd been in the musuem—jeans, a graphic shirt, and a white parka that made him stick out like a sore thumb in the darkness of the night. His mouth was curved into a grin, waving at you as he made his way to the restaurant. 

"Good evening, Bokuto," you said, bowing your head lightly once he's in front of you. 

"You didn't get lost, did you?" He laughed as he led you inside. "You're here early, too."

"I'm good with directions," was what you decide to reply with, taking your seat in front of Bokuto in one of the unoccupied tables. "Do you like yakinikus or something?"

The curator groaned as he sifted through the laminated menu. "Do I _like_ yakinikus? I live and breathe the toxic fumes of grilled meat, (Surname)! Oh, do you want to avail their happy hour promo? We get two pints of beer for free for every plate of meat we order!"

You shrugged. Despite being a shut-in, you could handle your liquor. "What's a yakiniku without the buzz of alcohol, right?" 

"I like the way you think!" 

Instead of discussing the collaboration he supposedly wanted to set up with you, Bokuto probed about the most mundane of things about your life instead—where you studied in high school, what your favorite food was, when you got your first pet, the usual. Yet, despite his forwardness, you found yourself responding to each of his questions with the absence of any foreboding you might have gotten if it had been any other, older curator seated in front of you. 

Something about Bokuto just coaxed the words from your mouth, and the fact that you were immediately comfortable around him was foreign to you. You could never sit still with strangers right off the bat, yet with him, it was as if you've known him your whole life. 

After several plates of meat and a pint of beer too many, your vision was beginning to blur at the seams. Once you let slip that Kinuye had a boyfriend that claimed to be one of Bokuto's friends from college, the curator immediately lit up with recognition. Before you knew it, Bokuto was already telling you about an old scuffle that his father and Kuroo's father once had a few years ago—

"You know," you breathed out, interrupting his tale, "there's...something about Kuroo that just doesn't sit well with me." 

For a moment, you thought Bokuto's gaze hardened at your words, but when you blinked up at him again, he was merely glancing at you with confusion in his eyes. "What is it?" he asked. "Kuroo's the nicest guy I know!"

"I don't know, really." And that was the truth! It's been a few days since you first met Kinuye's boyfriend, and despite the time that's passed, you were still convinced that your feelings towards the man wouldn't just easily change. "It's like...every time I look at him, my instincts are screaming at me to run away. Or I dunno, just put as much distance between us as possible. I couldn't really tell Kinuye that, so she just thinks I don't like her boyfriend... Sounds crazy, right?"

Bokuto's lips twitched into a smile, but this one didn't quite reach his eyes the way the other grins he flashed did. "No, I don't think that's strange at all." 

"Huh?"

You gazed up at him, puzzled, when Bokuto rose to his full height, offering a hand for you to take. In your inebriated vision, the fluorescent bulb that illuminated the restaurant shone behind Bokuto, casting a dull light across his tall form. And...it was probably just your eyes playing tricks on you, but you could have sworn you saw the outline of something... _massive_ protruding from his back in an iridescent shimmer that was gone as soon as you blinked.

 _I've seen that before_ , your mind echoed once you were struck with a familiar déjà vu. _Where have I seen that before?_

"You're looking a little red, (Surname)," he pointed out, worry creasing his brow. "Kuroo's gonna kill me if I let his girlfriend's best friend go home like that. Come on, I'll drive you. But you, uh, have to show me the way. Is that fine?"

"As you wish, Your Highness," you grumbled drunkenly before you could even think about the words, taking Bokuto's hand without much coercion.

You were so distracted with pulling your weight up that you didn't catch the way Bokuto's expression froze with disbelief. His grip on your hand as you stood up didn't falter, so you were oblivious to the fact that he was staring at you like a dream that slipped from his grasp once the sun had broken through the horizon.

A dream that he'd want nothing more than to relive again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *casually changes the estimated chapter count because i never plan my fics* you guys didn't see anything.

**Author's Note:**

> I said this was just going to be a oneshot, but I went on and played myself AGAIN. Well, hello, ladies and gents! I know Daichi's fic is still under progress, but your local soulmate whore just got struck with inspiration to write for Bokuto, so here we are with another three-part! 
> 
> You can yell at me to update my other fics on [tumblr](http://hirugamis.tumblr.com) or support a broke college student on [ko-fi](http://ko-fi.com/kaientai)! As always, thanks for taking the time to read my shitty content <3


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